Good Enough
by ddpjclaf
Summary: A Jace POV of the bedroom scene in City of Glass, written for my beta Lightlacedwithbeauty. Very angsty-but, that scene was angstaliscious to begin with anyway...  SPOILERS FOR ALL PREVIOUS BOOKS


_Hello all! Long time no...erm...read? So, I wrote this little ditty because I'd been promising my beta, lightlacedwithbeauty, a JPOV of a scene from the TMI books. Well, with Cassie Clare herself redoing all the smoochey ones in JPOV, I chose this one. I love me some angsty Jace, and, well, this is some solid angst here. I hope you enjoy! Oh, and since I can't use any actual writing from the real books, I had to condense the dialogue sections to Jace's thoughts only. So, please don't mind the 'telly' portions. I didn't really have a choice. _

_This is based off from the bedroom scene in City of Glass.  
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_**All character and place names are the property of Cassandra Clare. The only thing I own are my words.**_

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><p>Jace stared up at Clary's window. It was dark, a small, dark shape in the midst of the rest of the dark surrounding him. Amatis' entire house was silent, as were most of the homes lining the twisting Idris streets. He didn't know why he was there, why he was standing in the slim shaft of moonlight that filtered through the trees, longing for something, some<em>one<em>, he had no business longing for. Someone he could never have no matter how much he wanted her.

He'd tried to walk away, to leave and let things be as they were meant to be. The way she'd asked him to leave them. But his feet kept leading him back—or maybe it was his heart—to the one person who made him feel whole. Who made him feel alive. Who made the ache that now encompassed his entire being go away, even if only for the few moments that she let her guard down and allowed her eyes to meet his, her hand to reach for him, her breath to breathe his name. It never escaped his consciousness that the way he felt, the way he yearned, was more than wrong. It was inconceivable.

A soft breeze drifted through the air and ruffled Jace's hair. He raised a trembling hand and pushed the rogue locks away from his forehead. He shouldn't be there. But he couldn't leave. Couldn't turn away without telling her, at least once, the entire truth. Because he knew that tomorrow he would not be there any longer. What he had to do, where he had to go, he most likely wouldn't return. Before he went, he needed her to know.

Jace stepped forward and placed his hands on the trellis propped up against the wall of the house. They still shook, but he ignored them and started to climb. He hoped no one saw and thought he was just some pervert, but then again, wasn't he? Considering the reason he was there, the feelings he had for his sister, he supposed it was an accurate enough description.

He reached the window in a matter of seconds, and without allowing himself to think about the ramifications of what he was doing, pushed the curtain aside and climbed into the room. As soon as his foot hit the carpet, the figure on the bed jerked to an upright position and fumbled for something on the table next to her. Jace crossed the room and placed his hand over hers, letting her know with his voice and his touch that it was all right. She stilled immediately. For a brief second, Jace allowed his fingers to linger against her, and he could feel her pulse, fast and strong beneath her skin.

Clary lowered her hand and pulled it back to her side, her breath shaking with what sounded like a combination of fear and relief. Jace felt the absence of her touch so strong it was like a knife to his chest. Clary wanted to know why he was there, but he couldn't answer. Not when she was there, right there in front of him, her eyes wide and curious, her hair mussed from lying in bed, her body swathed in only a light camisole and wrapped in sheets. She looked like an angel. His angel, and he wanted to touch her, to lay his hand on her cheek, to twist her curls around his finger, to press his mouth to hers. Just one more time. The need was overwhelming, moving in on him from every angle, making him smaller and smaller, until he felt as though he would disappear. And he wanted to disappear. Into her. Into nothing.

She whispered his name, confusion in her voice. She wanted to know if he was all right. But he didn't know, God, he didn't know. He told her as much, explained how he'd been wandering, unable to sleep—no destination in mind—and he kept being led back to her. How he just needed to see her. Needed her even though he shouldn't. She continued to look up at him, the fright never quite leaving her face. Jace wanted to take it away, to reassure her, but he couldn't. He didn't have it in him to lie. To pretend. Not anymore.

Clary pulled her legs back and gave him room to sit. He did, closer than she'd probably intended. Her face was right there, so close, so close he could feel her breath on his cheeks, feel the warmth of her drifting across the air between them. He wanted more of it. More closeness. More breath. More warmth. He closed his eyes and tried to hold himself back. To keep his hands in his lap. But more than anything he had ever wanted before, he wanted to pull her into him, to feel her softness against his body, to breathe her air, to taste her mouth.

She asked him again if anything was wrong, and this time, he could not hold the words at bay. For so long he'd just wanted to say it, to tell her all the things he felt, holding none of it back, keeping none of it locked away. And so they spilled from his lips like a waterfall, all the confessions, all the confusion, everything his heart felt, even though his brain knew it was wrong, came rushing from him.

How he'd known, from the moment he saw her, that he wanted her. How he'd begged to be the one to come find her, how he'd wanted to be the one talking to her, sitting with her, getting to know her. How it was just different, those feelings. And even now as he admitted to it, he still felt it. He still wanted all of it. He still wanted to be the one.

As he spoke, the truth became clearer and clearer. It didn't matter that she was his sister. It didn't matter that he was part demon and she was part angel. It didn't matter that no one could ever accept it, that it could never, ever be, because none of that changed what he felt. None of that made him love her any less and in any different way. It was what it was. There was no denying it any more. And so he didn't. He couldn't.

The look in Clary's eyes was enough to gut him right then and there. There was pain, so much pain behind her stare, but there was also relief. But inside of Jace, there was no relief, there was only more darkness. More pain. He thought saying it, acknowledging it once and for all would make it better, but seeing her, seeing his own feeling reflected exactly back at him made his despair only deeper. She wanted him too. She loved him too. And they couldn't have that. Couldn't be that.

Jace stood abruptly and went to the window. His heart thudded hard against his ribs, his throat clenching against the pain rising from his chest. He shouldn't have said that, shouldn't have told her in that way. He knew it would only hurt them both. But here he was, unloading his grief, his heart, his love on the one person he shouldn't. The one person he never wanted to hurt. And the only person he ever seemed to hurt.

He felt her touch on his shoulder. So warm, so gentle. His stomach clenched with longing. But he couldn't look at her, couldn't bear to see what he had done. She started talking, saying things he couldn't understand, saying she'd thought he hated her. Hated her? How could he hate her? He loved her. More than he'd ever loved anything or anyone before in his life. He could never hate her.

Jace turned to her, sure his astonishment was clear on his face. He reached out, knowing he shouldn't, knowing how hard it would be to pull back, and touched her cheek. Electricity sparked where his fingertips ran along her skin. So light. Barely even there. And God, he wanted more. Wanted to cup her cheek in his palm, have her lean her weight into him, against him, lower his face to hers, and . . .

He let out a sigh. He was tired, so tired. So tired of wanting, so tired of needing. So tired of telling himself no. If he could have just one thing, just one thing, all he would ask for would be to stay. Just stay. There. In Amatis' house, on this last night, with Clary. His body next to her body. Her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm with his. Her warmth keeping him company until day dawned and he would be gone. Just that. Just this one night.

And so, with nothing else to lose, he asked. Defeat rolled off his shoulders, but with it came resolution. He was done. Done. He could not hide it, could not pretend. This was how he felt. This was what he wanted. All he wanted. Tomorrow did not exist. No one else existed. Just them. Just this night.

Jace braced himself for her to say no. For her to give him all the reasons why they couldn't, why they shouldn't. And he knew she'd be right. Clary was always right when it came to this. But he had to ask. He couldn't live or die with the knowledge that he'd never asked. That he'd never tried.

But Clary didn't say no. What? He couldn't have heard right. Jace looked back at her, his eyes wide, uncomprehending. After a moment, when her words soaked into him, warming him and giving him the greatest gift he'd ever gotten, he reached out and grabbed her, tugging her small body into his own. She molded to him perfectly, as if this was where she was meant to be, right there, in the circle of his arms, their hearts beating together, separated only by the thin fabric between them.

She pulled away from him and crawled up onto the bed, watching him pensively as he slid off his jacket, undid his weapons belt, and removed his boots. His heart hammered as he made his way over to where she waited. He slid onto the bed, taking care not to touch her as he lay, straight and motionless beside her. His body was alive with every emotion he'd ever felt, every desire he'd ever dreamed, but still, he lay unmoving.

A very thin glimmer of moonlight stretched across the room and illuminated only their faces. Jace turned until his met hers, their noses nearly touching, they were so close.

She was so beautiful. Her eyes large and dark in the pale light, and her hair a mass of curls framing her face. He wished he could see her freckles, count them and memorize the shapes they made across her nose. But this was almost as good.

Clary's breath warmed his cheeks and he could picture himself leaning in, lifting his hand to trace her jaw, her neck, her collarbone. He could imagine how it would feel to touch his lips to hers, soft at first, and then harder, longer, deeper. He remembered with acute clarity how she tasted, sweet and just a little salty, and wished he could taste her again. Wished that he could roll over onto her, trace her curves with his fingers, explore her mouth with his tongue, drape her leg over his hip, feel her fingers in his hair, hear her breathe his name, just once more. Once more. But that wasn't what he'd asked for. He'd asked just to lie with her, so that's what he'd do. He wouldn't even touch her. This could be good enough, would have to be good enough.

Jace settled back onto the bed, his hands flat on either side of him and let himself relax, but as soon as he did, he felt her fingers brush his. Just barely. Heat and desire shot through him, and his body tensed. He couldn't help how she affected him, but he would not give in. Slowly, he made himself calm down and close his eyes. But he could not stop the smile that pulled at his lips. This, this was okay. This was good.

Finally, just as his mind had started to give way to sleep, he felt her shift and her fingers entwine with his. Just that small movement, that tiny offering was enough. No, it wasn't everything he wanted—he could never have all he wanted—but given the fate they'd been dealt, all the insurmountable obstacles in their path, this was enough.


End file.
